


Need

by Noranem



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christopher Pike Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feeling all the feelings, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Seriously I don't know how this happened, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-12-31 21:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18322427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noranem/pseuds/Noranem
Summary: During and after the events of Star Trek: Into Darkness.Pike lives.Relationships shift.They get what they need.It’s a tripartite solution.





	1. Chris and Leo

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my long-suffering star of a beta! 3 more chapters to get through.

The text comm from Philip Boyce came sometime after 0100 hours, startling Leonard awake in his temporary ‘fleet housing; the silence of the room after the loud chirrup of the device was disorienting after finally accustoming to the ever-present thrum of engines. Ships were never silent, not even in the vacuum of space. Tendrils of a pleasant dream clung to him as he fumbled for the device, flinching away from the bright screen for a moment before his vision cleared and he read: _Daystrom attacked /w jumpship energy weapon. Pike est 4 mins asystole p/t emerg beam and CPB. Penetrating thoracoabdominal inj. 6 DOA, 11 maj trauma, K & S ok. Told med not to call you in._ His stomach swooped then clenched, vomit beginning to claw its way up his throat. A moment later his comm vibrated again: _Look after Kirk_.

Heart pounding, Leonard read then re-read the messages, frantically trying to understand what was implied between the terse lines. Four minutes asystole before they beamed him out? Chris had _died_. Chris had died and Jim had been there when it happened. Opening the device with clumsy fingers, he managed to swallow down bile enough to rasp out, “McCoy to Kirk.”

A long moment, then a briskly cool, _“Not now, Bones.”_

“Jim…” The word came out ragged and it was enough to startle the younger man out of whatever he’d been absorbed in.

There was a rustle of movement on the other side of the comm, then the background noise dropped out and Jim answered, outward facade stripped away, “We were attacked, Bones. Chris was hit and we tried but there wasn’t anything…”

“Boyce is…”

“He was dead, Bones.” Voice raspy and tight with emotion, the words began to blur together, “They beamed him out, but… I’m so sorry, I… I saw the bastard that did it.” Something indistinct was said in the background by someone Leonard didn’t recognize and the shutters of duty closed over Jim’s voice again, “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.”

The channel clicked shut and Leonard was left in his darkened bedroom. Later. Stomach roiling, he flung back the quilt and made his way across the unfamiliar floor of his temp housing, crashing to his knees in front of the toilet to vomit uncontrollably. The automatic bathroom lights were too bright and he closed his eyes, cheek pressed against the cool curve of the seat. Goddamn unsanitary. Leonard heaved again, bringing up a thin stream of bile as involuntary tears pricked at his eyes. It was a few minutes before he stood on coltish legs, flushing the toilet and swishing water gulped straight from the faucet through his mouth. There were still hours until morning, but he pulled on a clean uniform anyway, considering for a moment ignoring Boyce’s orders and heading to Medical. Admitting that would only lead to waiting in even worse surroundings, he picked up his comm and tried Uhura instead. If anyone else was awake, it would be her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hours later he was still sleepwalking through his duties as they prepared to launch. Watching numbly as Jim inexplicably batted away his concern as if he was the only one hurting; as Carol Wallace insinuated herself into Jim’s orbit; as Scotty resigned and it all seemed to be going straight to Hell. Uhura’s dark eyes followed him around the bridge, gentle empathy almost enough to shatter the tenuous control over his emotions.

A message came in just as they were about to go streaking off towards enemy space: _ECLS ongoing, heavy sedation, TAAA repair complete & bilateral lung transplant in progress /w stem cell harvest, EEG inconclusive_. Inconclusive was often a gentler word for brain dead, Leonard had used it himself. He hadn’t shown Jim. Hadn’t dared do anything that could make the younger man shift from focused anger to something potentially more fragile. 

When they appeared with a body bag he regretted it, heart beating _what if, what if, what if_ with the slow pull of the zipper. Goddamn it, Jim.

Goddamn it all to Hell.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Leonard McCoy wavered on his feet, shoulder pressing against the cool door frame of the private suite in Starfleet Medical. Under an array of monitors and support equipment was _Chris_ , breathing softly. Boyce’s words rang in his ears, “He’s going to be okay.” 

Six days of near constant stims as he fought to claw Jim back from the Grim Reaper’s embrace made the floor warp and wobble as Leonard contemplated moving his feet. They’d weathered transfusion reactions that left the younger man so swollen his features were almost entirely obscured, so severe they threatened to kill him all over again. Floating across the room as if on a rolling ship, Leonard sank into a chair and scrabbled for a free hand, holding it loosely in his own and trying not to notice the papery-quality of the skin.

Chris was alive.

Chris would recover.

In another room, on another floor, Jim was alive. Barely. Swelling slowly receding, brain function normalizing, although whether Jim would return to consciousness remained to be seen. An unexpected sob burst free and Leonard found himself having an out of body experience as he wondered: Now? You fucking lose it _now_? The sobs kept coming so yes, indeed, now it was.

He lowered his forehead to the mattress, breathing in the antiseptic smell that was utterly flat and devoid of _Chris_ , and just let it out in a river of snot and tears.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Leonard swam back to awareness to something in his hair and a pinch in his lumbar region. His head had that cotton-wool sensation of exhaustion mingled with withdrawal and it took a moment to realize, _oh_ , and raise his head sharply, breath catching in his throat: Chris.

Awake, little crow’s feet of stress or pain fanning out from the edges of his eyes, unhealthily pale, but _awake_. The hand that had been buried in Leonard’s hair fell down to the mattress and the older man mustered a fond smile.

Chris’ mouth was dry and stale and Leonard didn’t want to think what his own must taste like, but he didn’t hesitate to press his lips insistently against the older man’s. When that familiar mouth opened under his own Leonard moaned high in his throat; ragged relief that something finally felt right again.

Still weak despite Boyce’s best efforts, Chris shifted to one side and tugged Leonard up on to the biobed with him, pressing the younger man against his side when their kiss eventually broke. Voice a gravelly rasp that spoke of intubation, he ran a hand up Leonard’s flank and softly asked, “Are you okay?”

Leonard choked, eyes watering at the absurdity of the question as he replied, “I should be asking you that.”

“You’ve been on stims?” The telltale signs were there; he’d seen it in Boyce before.

Pressing his forehead to the warm, comforting place where Chris’ neck met his shoulder, Leonard nodded.

Bringing a hand up, Chris threaded his fingers in the soft hair at the back of Leonard’s neck as he asked, “Were you treating me?”

Leonard snorted at the thought, sensing the confusion that engendered then shaking his head. His words were muffled by the side of Chris’ neck, but intelligible nonetheless: “That was all Phil: he commed me right after you were admitted; told me you were hit and Jim and Spock had been there too and I should look after Jim.” His friend’s name on his tongue made him shiver, as if tempting fate.

“I was shot...” Confusion bleeding into recollection was plain in Chris’ voice, “In Daystrom. There was an emergency meeting about John Harrison. Jim had been demoted: he was there as my XO, but he was the one who figured it out. I called for an air defence team and then…” A shudder of remembered pain went through his body and he pressed Leonard against him more tightly as he took stock: an ache in his chest, breathlessness, a heavy lassitude in his limbs.

Unable to hold his tongue, now that Chris was awake and holding him, “It was Marcus.” An involuntary shudder went through Leonard at the memory of dead eyes and a cold drawl, “Shit, Chris, it was Marcus all along.”

Chris had the sudden sense that whatever was going on was about more than just him. Swallowing, wishing he had a sip of water for his sore throat, he gently asked, “Leo, what happened?”

So much had happened, Leonard didn’t know where to start. Events tumbled out in a barely intelligible sequence. “Jim stood up to Marcus. He tried to kill us, Chris. He wanted to provoke a war with the Klingons and use augments from the eugenics wars to do it; he’d secretly built himself a battleship. Harrison, his name is Khan, killed Marcus and took control of his ship, but we managed to outmanoeuvre him. The Enterprise was damaged, systems were offline… we started falling.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it. Marcus had recruited him to Starfleet: he was the last person Chris would expect to betray the Federation. Focusing on the word that had the greatest undertone of real fear, he asked, “Falling?”

“To Earth.” Leonard tightened the arm he had slung around Chris’ waist as he continued, “Main power was offline. We were going to crash… Jim realigned the core.”

A cool hand of dread slipped around Chris’ flimsy chest and squeezed. 

Sensing the question that was unasked, Leonard confirmed, “He walked in there and did it manually.” It was suddenly too hard to breathe. Chris’ eyes prickled and he almost missed Leonard’s next words: “He died before we could open the door, pressed up against the airlock with only Spock for comfort. They brought him to med bay in a body bag. A goddamn body bag!” Taking a sharp breath, Leonard forced himself to continue quickly, “The augments had some kind of super-blood. I’d injected a dead tribble to see if it would slow the cellular degradation, and no sooner had they set Jim out on a slab then the damn thing purred. I’m probably going to go to all kinds of ethical Hell for it, but I put Jim into a cryotube and then gave him a transfusion six days ago.”

Confused as to what he was hearing, Chris tentatively ventured, “Jim’s alive?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Leonard managed, “That’s a relative term at the moment.”

“Shit, Leo…” Bringing his arms up, Chris embraced as firmly as he could, needing the contact as much as the younger man. Chests pressed together, both of their hearts seemed to be beating a tattoo of _not Jim not Jim please not Jim_.

“I don’t know.” Leonard gulped air as he admitted what had been pressing on him for the better part of a week, “I just don’t know.”

“Shhhhh,” Chris whispered, “shhhhh.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chris had eyed the wheelchair with remembered distaste, but not protested as Leonard helped him into it for the short journey to the floor above. As the door to Jim’s room opened Chris caught himself holding his breath, unsure what _relative_ could look like. It was better than expected: sunlight slanted across the bed, blinds positioned to obscure the devastation of the waterfront, and if not for the detailed biomonitors Jim could have been mistaken for sleeping. Unblemished. Hell, he hadn’t even lost a hair on his head.

Leonard pushed Chris close to the bed, then sank into the visitor’s chair. It was still touch and go, but the transfusion reactions had calmed down and his EEG was finally starting to normalize and resemble something approaching sleep. A few days, perhaps, and Jim might open his eyes. Reaching over, Leonard entangled their hands and gave a squeeze as he admitted, “I need you.” He needed Jim as well, if he were honest.

Chris returned the gesture, eyes on Jim but words only for Leonard, “I need you too.”

They’d said as much before, but in that moment Leonard had a sudden appreciation for the truth of it. A year and a half. That’s how long since this whatever-it-was between them had started. Closing his eyes, he could still remember that spark of attraction and surprise: it had been a long day in medical; he’d stumbled out of a trauma surgery where he’d kept a ten year old boy alive but likely facing a life of immobility and Boyce had taken one look at him and asserted, “Right, get changed and we’re getting dinner.”

It wasn’t that unusual; thanks to his cadet status Boyce had been his supervisor at ‘fleet medical since he was cleared for weekend shifts as a first year cadet. From anyone else it would have been grating, but the older man had taken one look at his credentials from Georgia and announced that the only supervision Leonard needed was a monthly check-in, usually involving a glass of whisky. _Sometimes a man will tell his bartender things he'll never tell his doctor._ Normally dinner would have meant the canteen or a nearby bar, an occasional familiarity that had started after their first year working together. This time, though, Boyce pulled out his comm, speaking into the device even as he gave Leonard a gentle shove towards the locker room, “Make enough for three, okay? I’m bringing company.”

The reply was indistinct, but sounded positive.

Showering away the day, Leonard hadn’t thought much of it. If anything, he didn’t feel fit for company, but trusted Phil that whatever he had in mind would be fine. If he put someone off with what Jim called his grouchy doctor routine, so be it.

Phil had led them to his groundcar, then piloted it away from campus and towards the bridge.

“Not your place?” He’d assumed the voice on the other end of the comm was some previously unmentioned romantic partner

“Good friend.”

Oh.

As if reading his mind, Phil added, “Don’t worry— you’re not expected to hit new heights of sociability after a day like today. We served together on the Yorktown and the Aldrin: he knows all about doctors on bad days.”

Mollified slightly, Leonard reserved comment as they pulled up in front of a sleek townhouse overlooking the ocean. Allowing himself to be ushered up to the front door, he carefully kept his eyebrow in line when the older man tapped a few numbers into a keypad and let them in.

The entryway didn’t give much away: a few pairs of mens’ shoes, a well worn leather jacket hanging on an old fashioned coat stand. He could just see into a living room that seemed to contain a tasteful collection of mid-century modern furniture and a well-stocked bar cart.   
It felt like a man’s house, and sure enough when Phil called out, “You in the kitchen?”

The reply was in a decidedly masculine tone, “I assume you’d have warned me if your guest wasn’t omnivorous?”

Phil shrugged and called back, “I’ve seen him eat a burger before,” as he led the way down the hall, round the corner, and...

Holy shit. As the man at the stove turned around with a smile, a hot _zing_ of attraction stuck Leonard like a lightning bolt. 

Effortlessly confident in a soft grey t-shirt and well worn jeans, feet bare, Captain Pike’s blue eyes fixed the younger man from across the room, momentarily appraising before he said, “McCoy, right?”

“Leo McCoy.” His tongue made an abortive move that might have been an attempt to tack a “sir” on the end of that, and the captain smiled more broadly and held out his hand to shake.

“Call me Chris.” Leonard could only hope that his own smile wasn’t quite as dazed as he felt, a sensation that only increased as his hand was taken in a firm grip before the captain’s eyes skittered back to Phil, “Rough day?”

The older man shrugged, “Trauma case.” He helped himself to two wine glasses from the cabinet and the open bottle of red. “What’s cooking?”

“Comfort food.” Pike accepted the change of topic as easily as the answer, “We’ve got steaks, scalloped potatoes, fresh broccoli and carrots, and a pie from Christine’s in Sausalito.”

Phil chuckled, handing Leonard a glass of wine as he replied, “You are trying to cram it all in before your baby launches.” Sensing the younger man’s question, he added, “Chris is slated to take the Enterprise out when she’s complete. No more farmer’s market produce and Christine’s for a couple years, maybe longer.”

Pike raised his wine glass in a toast of acknowledgement before turning back to the stove and sliding a pot onto a burner. “It’ll be ready in ten, do you want to add another place setting and give Leo the tour?”

“Yeah, sure.” Nudging Leonard to follow, Phil grabbed a spare set of cutlery and led the way through to the dining area. It was a large room with one wall almost entirely glass, the view momentarily arresting. “Come on,” Leonard turned to find Phil had already completed the place setting and was watching him with a small smile, “The view is even better from upstairs.”

Leonard followed, _looking not looking_ through open doors as they skirted what looked to be an office, climbed the stairs to the second floor, past what must be a master bedroom and out onto a large deck with sweeping views of the Pacific. Eloquence defeated him: “Wow.”

Phil chuckled, “I think that was my first reaction as well. I don’t want to know what he paid for it.”

“I guess if you spend enough time off planet you can save on living expenses.” Leonard quirked an eyebrow, “Perhaps I really should work harder on my aviophobia.”

That was enough to have Phil laughing outright, moving to join him at the railing and pick out several points of interest in the distance.

The dinner had been unexpectedly pleasant; the clusterfuck of the day melting away in the face of Pike and Boyce’s easy interactions, stories from the Yorktown and Aldrin, and some damn good home cooking. They’d retired to the living room after the meal; the evening chill in the air too much to brave the deck. The captain’s bar cart had proved to be as well stocked as it appeared at a distance. Leonard found himself increasingly distracted by the low gravel in Chris’ tone as the evening wore on, the way the older man’s hands curled around a cut crystal glass of whisky, the way his eyes caught the light and the curl of hair at his temple. 

Eventually, Phil drained his glass and set it down, moving to stand with a decisive, “I’ve got a shift tomorrow: I’m off.”

Pike looked up with a raised eyebrow, “You off too, Leo, or would you like another drink?”

Oh, Jesus, the captain was making it easy either way, staying carefully on the other side of the room to give Leonard space to make the choice; Boyce a careful witness to his consent if he decided to stay. There was nothing strictly improper about it, medical being its own hierarchy even within the academy.

Leonard considered his options: going back to the dorm and Jim with his teasing mouth and one night stands and, _seriously, Bones, what are you? A monk or something? Jocelyn get your balls in the divorce too?_ and thought fuck it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was worth it the next morning when he slipped back into their double-dorm to find Jim sitting at the breakfast bar nursing a cup of coffee and spectacular bed head. The younger man had glanced up, then done a profound double-take as he caught the still damp hair and relaxed posture: “You got _laid_ , Bones, seriously?” Jim barked out a laugh of surprise, moving to top up his cup of coffee as he scrutinized his friend. “Who’s the lucky…” something shifted on the younger man’s face with the realization, quickly masked, “man?”

Grabbing a mug for himself Leonard let himself enjoy the moment of comeuppance after years of teasing, raising an eyebrow as he asked, “What makes you say that?”

“That’s not your cologne. I know it...”

The orgasm must have done something to decouple his mouth from his brain, because Leonard heard himself say, “You know what Chris smells like?”

“ _Chris_?” Jim almost fell off his stool. “I was just going to say it’s Yves Saint Laurent.” The younger man’s face turned calculating, flipping through a mental rolodex of Chrises, cross referencing with ones who could be met without venturing from Leonard’s regular routine and bearing both adult sensibilities and disposable income to invest in cologne and… “Holy shit, Bones!” Jim’s mug hit the countertop hard enough to make his coffee slop, what looked like a mixture of pride, envy and something else warring in his expression. “You slept with Pike!”

In that moment Leonard suddenly realized that the last two and a half years of teasing might have masked an offer that was more real than he had appreciated. There was a blotchy flush crawling up Jim’s neck and Leonard felt something unexpected shift in his chest. He almost said, “I’m sorry” or “I hadn’t realized…” but the moment was lost when Jim schooled his features into something purely fraternal and punched him on the shoulder, hard, with a cry of, “You sly dog!”


	2. Jim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoohoo, we got a comment! Let's celebrate with porn and feelings...

Jim was alive. Vibrantly, wonderfully, alive. There had been a reunion in the hospital, shortly after Jim had startled awake a full two weeks after his death, the three of them closer to tears than any one would subsequently admit. The sentiment had quickly turned to the elation that comes from cheating death, again, and surviving. Three weeks of physical therapy, for both of them, and they’d finally been discharged: Chris to his townhouse and Jim to his ‘fleet apartment.

And yet… Chris frowned, smoothing the blanket over his legs, and yet something was off. Jim’s easy smile looked the same, but the light didn’t quite reach his eyes. Clarity came with the sudden recollection of Jim’s angry words when they took his ship away: “ _You know how many crew members I’ve lost since I took command? Not one. Not one!_ ” Jim was scared, Chris realized. He’d flown too close to the sun and was nursing his singed wings and sorrow in the only way he knew how: by hiding away to lick his wounds.

“Hey,” Leonard stood in the doorway, “Sleep okay?”

Normally any reminder of his lingering need for an afternoon nap made Chris bristle, but in this moment the gossip was too important: “He’s going to get the five year mission. Nogura commed earlier. They’re going to tell him tomorrow.”

They’d talked about this, and after Jim’s performance and the decimation of command it had been inevitable, but Leonard still stiffened before striding quickly across the living room and sinking to his knees in front of the couch. They kissed long and hard before Leonard pulled back, hazel eyes dark as he said, “I’m going to miss you.”

Chris caught the younger man’s lips for another quick kiss before replying, “I’m going to miss you so much.” It had been hard enough the first time: after Nero. Watching Leonard ship out on the Enterprise while he stayed behind in San Francisco, resigned to a desk and a permanent limp. Since his release from hospital this time they’d settled into cohabitation as equal partners, nothing like overnight stays when Leonard was still technically a cadet or the caregiving following the Narada. The tentative launch date set a timeline: six months. They had six months while repairs and retrofits to the Enterprise continued, then Leo was going to ship out and it would be nothing but comms punctuated by the occasional shore leave or starbase meet-up. _Leo and Jim_. Clearing his throat, Chris softly announced, “Jim’s scared.”

Leonard nodded, because of course he’d recognized it first, sighing heavily as he nudged Chris over so he could slide onto the couch as well, legs tangled together. “I know.” He sighed again as Chris ran a hand down his flank. “I wasn’t sure at first, he hides it well, but I think he’s been running scared since the death toll came in.”

“What the Hell do we do?” Because there was no doubt this was a _we_ problem.

“Damned if I know.” Leonard pressed a kiss to the soft hair at Chris’ temple. “First time I’ve ever seen him falter.” Considering more carefully, he offered, “I think he needs to know that we believe in him; that it’s going to be okay. Maybe even that he’s loved.”

_Loved_. That was the crux of it. So far as anyone had seen Jim Kirk didn’t do love, so Leonard and Chris had simply resigned themselves to care for the man without ever putting a label on it. “How do we convince him? I don’t think he’d necessarily believe words. Not even from us.”

“I guess we have to show him.” Leonard frowned and admitted, “I don’t think he’s fucked anyone since he woke up.”

Chris’ eyebrow raised, because Kirk had a _reputation_ and the conversation had suddenly taken an unexpected turn. He’d thought they were still in the realm of pep talks, dinner, and maybe tucking the younger man into bed in the guest room for a few days. “Are we seriously considering doing this?” _Doing that_. He was surprised to find he wanted the answer to be yes.

“I guess we are.” Clearing his throat to mask his sudden awkwardness, even though this was Chris, Leonard asked, “Do we need to talk about this?”

“Probably should. You done this before?” The suggestion was absurd enough that Leonard snorted; answer enough for Chris. If no actions were going to be off the table, then he needed clarity, “Are you imagining this as a one time thing or more?”

Inhaling sharply, Leonard considered for a moment, then reminded himself not to get too far ahead on a hypothetical. A novel world of possibilities opened up and he heard himself saying, “I’d be open to either. How about you?”

Chris had never considered it, to be honest. Sure, he’d noticed Kirk was attractive in a vaguely detached, academic sense, but since he’d had _Leo_ a straying eye was just not going to happen. Now, imagining Leo _and_ Jim… 

Chris shifted involuntarily and Leonard chuckled at the implication. “Then I guess it’s up to Jim.”

The couch was too narrow for two grown men to stay comfortable for long, but Chris shifted anyway to pin Leonard against him, capturing the younger man’s mouth for a quick possessive kiss. “I’ll bet he flirted with you, didn’t he?” Chris’ voice was a low growl, “Before we got together? You shared a dorm too.” Leonard shivered at the change in tone and Chris insinuated a knee in between his legs, insistently pressing. “What was it like? Did he touch you in the kitchen, pressing past you in the crowded space? Strip off his gym kit on the way to the shower? Run his hand over your shoulder when you were bent over studying?”

“I didn’t think any of it was real,” Leonard admitted, far too honestly, “until the look on his face the morning after we got together.”

Chris pulled back to look, really look, at Leonard, eyes scanning back and forth quickly before he leaned forward and pressed a much more chaste kiss to the side of the younger man’s mouth. “This doesn’t change us, Leo.” The faint rasp of stubble made him do it again, then softly breathe into the other man’s open mouth, “I love you.” 

Half an hour later, sated and sweaty, Chris shifted to sling an arm loosely across Leonard’s belly. “You know he’s going to have expectations, don’t you? Of how it will go.” At the noncommittal grunt in response he nipped at the curve of Leonard’s ear just to elicit an exhausted yelp. “I think we should surprise him.” He licked a stripe up the side of Leonard’s neck, just because he could, “Show him it’s not about age or roles or anything but how we care for him.”

Leonard shivered, exhausted cock giving a hopeful twitch at the promise in the other man’s tone. Tomorrow night, he told himself, curling into Chris’ arm. Tomorrow.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

_Dinner at our place. 1900._

Jim blinked down at his comm, the letters swimming slightly until he blinked back his exhaustion. Bones. If it had been anyone else he’d have begged off. Cited some non-existent dinner meeting or early briefing the following morning. His padd chimed a reminder that he had five minutes until his next briefing with the admirals and he forced numb thumbs to type back, _See you then_.

It wasn’t the _Lateerssssss_ he’d have sent a year ago. Fucking lectures on maturity and responsibility were sinking in. Plastering a bland smile on his face, Jim squared his shoulders and moved to face the latest firing squad.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The five year mission. A few months ago he’d have punched the air, punched Bones’ shoulder with an emphatic _fuck yeah_ , then called up those twins with the tails. Today, though...

Pike must have already known, hence the dinner invitation. He wasn’t sure he could face them. They hadn’t seriously talked, him and Chris, since that night in the bar. He didn’t know what the other man thought of him: whether he still deserved a second chance after so many people had died.

It was already 18:40, far too late to politely cancel, so he swung by his fleet apartment to quickly change. He’d purged it a few days after he’d been released from medical: consigning the skis leaned against the window to the closet where they belonged (no need to impress casual visitors), decanters and shot glasses removed from the bedroom, no fewer than three abandoned thongs swept out from under the bed and dumped in the recycler. It looked tidy now. Adult.

He felt like a fucking fraud.

Bones answered the door when he chimed, too perceptive hazel eyes sweeping down and up before ushering him in with a warm, “Jim, you look like crap.”

Chris was cooking: something Italian that had Jim’s neglected stomach grumbling. Leonard’s eyes narrowed and Jim resisted the urge to hold his hands up placatingly between them as the doctor growled, “Did you remember to eat at all today?”

“He was meeting with Nogura.” Chris’ tongue darted out to sample something red on the tip of a spoon, “The man barely eats and thus forgets other people need to eat as well. He subsists on a protein shake in the morning and a nutrient buffer at night. I’ve seen other admirals smuggle sandwiches into meetings with him, because there sure as Hell won’t be a lunch break.”

Mollified slightly, Leonard clapped a hand on Jim’s shoulder, palpating the tense muscles for a moment before pressing Jim to sit on a stool at the island. He could sense a faint quiver, as if the younger man wanted to lean into his touch but was resisting. A wave of relief that they might be on the right track rolled through him and he quirked an eyebrow at Chris over Jim’s head.

The gesture was observed, catalogued and perceived correctly, as Chris set down his spoon on a trivet and moved to pour three half-glasses of wine. Not enough to impair anyone’s judgement in the slightest, no matter how exhausted. The older man pressed one into Jim’s hands, fingers lingering a moment longer than strictly necessary before collecting his own and asking, “We got the good word as well. Congratulations, captain.” He held the glass up in a toast that Jim returned with a genuine, but small, smile. “How are you doing?”

Looking into his merlot as if it contained answers, Jim said, “When you first gave me the Enterprise you had me recite the Captain's Oath,” Jim’s expression turned rueful and he rolled his glass around in his hands as he admitted, “they were words I didn't appreciate at the time.”

“And now?”

“Now…” Easy lies slipped over his tongue, but fixed with two perceptive gazes he admitted, “Now sometimes they leave me fucking terrified.”

“Jim,” His name, not _son_. “I’d be worried if they did anything less. It’s a helluva thing, that many people depending on you. Now you’ve seen just how it can go, and stuck to your principles. I’m proud of you.” One side of his mouth twitched in a small smile and Chris waved a hand towards Leonard as he added, “We’re proud of you. You’re going to be one hell of a captain, Jim.”

Leonard set down his glass and moved to stand behind Jim’s stool, hands coming up to gently knead the tension in the younger man’s shoulders. It was a surprising gesture, no less so right in front of Chris. Jim tried to twist, but capable hands held him still. “Bones?”

Pressing into a point that made the younger man exhale in a hiss of half pain half pleasure Leonard let his drawl lengthen in a tone usually kept behind closed doors as he said, “We’ve been worried about you.” Another press followed by a gentle stroke of apology, “Could see you weren’t sleeping.” Jim was intimately acquainted with Bones’ _doctor hands_ : capable, toeing the line between firm and gentle as the situation warranted, but this felt different. He told himself to not overthink it, to just enjoy, because damn if he wasn’t feeling a little touch starved.

Chris turned back from the stove and Jim tensed for some kind of reprimand, but instead received a bowl of spaghetti and a fork. Jim’s forehead creased, but he accepted it without comment. Dinner at Chris’ was usually a sit down affair at the long dining table, occasionally a more casual plates-on-laps on upstairs deck. Perched around the kitchen island was new; it must be how Chris and Bones ate when it was just the two of them.

Leonard moved away to perch on his own stool and Jim briefly felt a tug of loss, quickly buried as he took a first mouthful and realized that god, yes, he was fucking starving. 

Sharing a glance with Leonard as Jim _inhaled_ his pasta (was the man even chewing?), Chris gave an almost imperceptive nod and received one in return. This was it then: the point of no return. He stalled another ten minutes by serving Jim seconds, keeping the conversation lightly revolving around ‘fleet gossip as they ate. 

Then all too suddenly the bowls were empty and cleared away, the half-glasses of wine topped up, less than a full glass each, all told, and Leonard was catching Chris’ hand across the island as he fixed Jim with an assessing gaze and repeated, “We’ve been worried about you, Jim.” Leonard stroked his thumb over Chris’ knuckles, but kept his eyes on the younger man, “We know what happened was hard, know you’ve been hiding the stress and lack of sleep, know you must be scared of the responsibility. We want to help, if you’ll have us.”

_Have_ us, not _let_ us. The phrasing made something in Jim’s brain skitter to a halt. He’d passed out from hunger in Nogura’s briefing: that was the only possible explanation, because there was no way he was perched in Chris’ kitchen with Bones looking at him like that. He’d been fixed by a thousand different looks from Bones, from _Damn it, Jim!_ to _Of course, you idiot_ to his personal favorite, _I’m going to make you feel better, Jim, I promise_. But this...

Pressing further, Leonard asked, “What do you need, Jim?” When a widening of eyes was the only reply, Leonard dropped Chris’ hand and moved around to embrace the younger man from behind, pressing palms to the flat planes of Jim’s chest and feeling as his heart picked up speed. “If you don’t know, that’s fine. If you want to just leave, that’s fine too, but if not, we think we can help.”

Jim didn’t know what the fuck he needed, but in the last few weeks he’d had an increasing sense that it looked a lot like what Chis and Bones had. Asking for that, however...

As if sensing his thoughts, Chris set his glass of wine firmly aside and made sure he had Jim’s undivided attention: “You mean a lot to us. Each in our own way, and surely more than we’ve ever told you.”

Bones shifted, gripping him more tightly, reassuringly, but still not a stronger embrace than he could easily break. Jim wanted to lean back into Bones, to lean forwards towards Chris with a _yes_. What came out instead was an emphatic, “What the fuck?”

It should have phased them. It didn’t. Instead, Bones’ chest rumbled with a soft laugh and Chris’ eyes got those little crinkles at the edges that Jim had never seen turned on him. Not like that. Something pressed against the top of his head and Jim’s brain short-circuited again because that could only be Bones’ _lips_.

“Are you… Are…” For someone tasked with interplanetary diplomacy, Jim’s purported eloquence had evaporated.

Chris seemed to understand anyway, as he nodded, “We’re serious. It’s up to you: leave and we can never speak of it again, or we can take a drink onto the deck and just talk, or…”

Jim licked his lips, mouth dry, “Or?”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Bones shifted around so Jim could see his face as he added, “darling.”

And with that Jim himself was _gone_ , because holy shit how could anyone resist that? Bones’ face was entirely too close and his eyes were entirely too welcoming. Hair prickling on the back of his neck because Chris was right there, watching, he leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to Bones’ lips.

The older man’s mouth opened under his own, and Jim made a noise embarrassingly close to a whimper deep in his throat. Eyes closed, he didn’t hear Chris move around the island until he was aware of another presence at his elbow. Disengaging from Bones, almost nervous at what he’d been doing, Jim’s stomach flipped when a softly calloused hand cupped his chin and turned his head and he only had a half second to prepare himself before _Chris’_ lips closed over his own. 

Dazed was the only way to describe how he felt when Chris eventually pulled back and asked, “Deck or bedroom?”

“Bedroom.” Jim’s voice cracked, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, “Oh, please, bedroom.”

The stumbling journey there was surreal: pressed between two hard, insistent bodies Jim let himself be carried along, stripped to his boxers and deposited on a large bed. Before he had time to take in his surroundings Bones came clambering after him, pressing his shoulders to the mattress with an insistent kiss. Jim barely had a moment to lick his lips afterwards before Chris was suddenly there too, pressing an equally demanding kiss to his mouth as what must be Bones’ hands started to rove down his torso. “Oh my god,” Jim breathed, and Chris pulled back just far enough to grin down at him and _wink_ and mutter, “Not quite,” in a tone Jim had never heard before but went straight to his groin.

And, fuck, speaking of his groin: Bones was easing his boxers down and dipping a hand low to wrap around over-eager heat and he moaned right into Chris’ mouth. The hand squeezed gently and Jim’s legs parted involuntarily, shuddering as another squeeze was followed by a wet kiss to his thigh. 

Chris grabbed Jim’s hand and briefly tangled their fingers together before sliding the joined hands along his flank, then around and down to encourage Jim to press a finger against the older man’s anus. Jim’s breath caught in his throat, because in the admittedly scant few minutes he’d had to consider what might happen, this had not been in the realm of plausibility. In the realm of fantasy, however…

Another hand joined Jim’s own, slick with lube, and he realized Bones must have grabbed it somehow while he was distracted. Jim opened his mouth to say he didn’t know what, but the tip of his cock was suddenly engulfed in wet heat and he moaned, bucking into the warmth and finding his hips restrained by a firm arm.

“Just relax.” Chris had canted forwards, ass in the air, so his lips were close to Jim’s ear. “If you want to stop just say, but I’d like you to fuck me. Will you fuck me, Jim?”

“Oh fuck yes,” Jim gasped, eyes fluttering closed as Bones _sucked_ and Chris pressed his ass more firmly against the two sets of probing fingers. 

The tip of his index finger broached the muscle and Jim felt on the verge of an out-of-body experience; what must they look like? The three of them, Jim, Chris and Bones, tangled together, around and inside each other. Bones’ finger slipped in beside Jim’s and Chris groaned, long and low, right into Jim’s ear.

Somehow collecting himself, Chris composed himself enough to ask a moment later, “What about you, Jim? What do you want us to do to you?”

“Anything,” Jim cut him off, voice unsteady but sure. “Anything, shit.” 

A third finger, Bones’, slipped into Chris, bringing more lube and an increasing fullness that made the older man gasp, one hand coming up to grip Jim’s biceps tightly as if trying to ground himself. The mouth on Jim’s cock suddenly slipped off with a wet noise and he whimpered a protest that didn’t sound like himself at all. Jim liked sex, sure, but he was always in control. Here he felt at a distinct disadvantage, as if time had sped up and he was just being carried along.

Not that he was complaining. Certainly not as Bones curled his fingers in Chris’ ass, then pulled them out along with Jim’s and prodded and pushed until positions reversed and Chris was on his back on the bed and Jim was tugged into place on top. Chris, alive, smiling, _encouraging_ ; the sudden rush of emotion took Jim by surprise and he’d never felt such a conflicting mix of arousal and tenderness and what might have been intermingled fear and relief.

Chris’ smile shifted from anticipation to something more perceptive and he reached up to wrap a firm hand around the back of Jim’s neck and pull him down for a kiss. As their tongues stroked he felt Chris shifting to cant his hips upwards, legs moving to hook over Jim’s upper arms. Fuck, they were going to do this, and then they _were_ doing this as Bones took Jim in hand and lined them up, and it was only a matter of the smallest push and he was _inside_ and this was _insane_ and he could see a bead of sweat forming on Chris’ upper lip and stretching down to lick it off only brought him deeper.

“Yes.” Chris shifted underneath, as if searching for a better angle even as he repeated his gasped, “Yes, Jim.” And then Jim must have hit it just right because the older man gave a loud groan and his fingers pressed bruises into the younger man’s arms. 

It felt so good Jim almost forgot there was more than just the two of them, until a slick probing finger abruptly circled his anus and he gasped out an explosive, “Bones!” The finger pressed inside and he lost his rhythm, head falling forward onto Chris’ chest as he could only hold himself still as it unerringly found his prostate. Doctors, fuck! Another hand settled firmly on his hip and encouraged Jim to start moving again, which elicited a deep groan from Chris.

Jim had just found his stride with rolling motions that were making Chris huff his breath with each punch forwards when a second finger joined the first in his ass, flexing and stretching, and he suddenly realized just what Bones might be intending. It would be enough to be distracting, but everything was distracting: from the way Chris was biting his bottom lip to the way Bones’ free hand was gently caressing his flank.

A second finger was joined by a third, then everything was _overwhelming_ when he felt Bones rising up behind him, cock snuggled between Jim’s asscheeks before insistently pressing inside. Jim stilled, a long moan all he was capable of as pressure turned into an almost unbelievable fullness. He was going to cum. If anyone did _anything_ he was going to cum. A dozen heartbeats later and the danger seemed to pass. Another dozen and Bones was pressing wet kisses between his shoulder blades as the older man started a gentle rocking, push, pull, push, pull that had Jim moving against Chris in turn. 

It was unbelievably erotic.

Jim felt unbelievably secure. 

Bones’ hands settled firmly on Jim’s hips and the older man began to move more quickly, rocking turning into hard thrusts that raked across Jim’s prostate and sent sparks of pleasure through his whole pelvis. Jim bent down for a kiss with Chris was more gasping into each others’ mouths and clashing teeth and _need_ and fuck he hadn’t appreciated that it could be quite like this.

Bones was grunting behind him and each hard thrust seemed to punch the breath out of Jim’s lungs as surely as it was hitting his prostate. Chris had reached down and was gripping his own cock, hand moving quickly as if serious about coming and it was fucking _overwhelming_ and all Jim could do was hang on and gasp and wonder in a vague sense if that was him moaning before it all crested and sparked and he shuddered between them, ass clenching and hips rolling as he came, hard, buried to the root in Chris. 

He dimly heard Bones cursing behind him, thrusting once, twice, then freezing as he emptied himself into the younger man, jerking and twitching. In the moment before Jim collapsed forward, he sensed the flurry of motion from Chris’ hand stilling as the older man came with a harsh gasp.

Huffing like an asthmatic, Jim came back to the present to find himself sprawled across Chris’ chest, cock limp and free from the other man and his own ass empty as well. There was a hand in his hair, stroking gently, and he muzzily guessed from the angle that it must belong to Chris. 

A warm, damp towel hit him on the shoulder and Jim haphazardly used it to clean himself off without quite opening his eyes. The etiquette of the situation eluded him. Did he thank them, get dressed, and leave? Did…

“Jim,” it was Bones, in that tone of fond exasperation that seemed to be reserved just for Jim, “I don’t know how you can be thinking so hard after that, but you are.” A warm hand stroked down his back. “You can leave if you want, but we’d both be happy if you’d stay.”

Well… when it was put like that. He lowered his head back to Chris’ chest, and the gesture was met with a rumble of approval that he felt more than heard. The towel was plucked away, then Bones was back, throwing an arm across Jim’s waist and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck as he curled around them.

Held between them, legs tangled with Bones’ and Chris’ heartbeat thrumming under his ear, he felt _wanted_. Trusted. For the first time in weeks, Jim simply slept.


	3. Leonard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because chapter 2 got 200% as many comments as chapter 1...
> 
> Okay, 2, but we're still delighted (o˘◡˘o)
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As he shifted to awareness, Leonard was dimly aware that something felt _different_. The bed was warm and cozy; beyond his eyelids came the sense that it was morning from the brightness of the room. Chris was there: he could hear that little hitch at the end of a particularly deep breath. It was soft, not a snore, and almost imperceptible when on the other side of the bed. Reassuring, rather than annoying.

The arm slung around his waist tightened and Leonard let out a happy grumble, freezing when the sleepy chuckle at his ear was _not Chris_.

“I’m never going to take you grumbling at me seriously again, Bones, I swear it’s going to go straight to my dick.”

 _Jim_. 

Leonard rolled over to find Jim watching him from the pillow, hair in disarray and eyes relaxed for the first time in weeks. _Jim_. He surged forward and pressed his lips against the younger man’s, deepening the kiss when Jim made a little noise of acquiescence in the back of his throat. The deep breaths from the far side of the bed ceased and when Leonard pulled back it was to find Chris propped up on an elbow, watching them both with warm, sleepy eyes.

Jim and Chris, with their blue eyes and soft smiles and bedhead and goddamn alive. Something lurched unexpectedly in his chest; a rush of emotion that just about bowled him over.

“Leo?”

Oh fuck, _fuck_. Unexpected tears prickled Leonard’s eyes; the soft word from Chris enough to tip him over the edge. 

For something that was supposed to be all about Jim, this was not a direction Chris had anticipated. Aching to reach out and pull Leonard close, but prevented by the lanky form in between them, Chris opened his mouth, but was beaten to it by Jim:

“What’s wrong, Bones?”

Jim was looking at Leonard with a tenderness that made something shift in Chris’ own chest, because, fuck, he’d never seen this side of Jim before. It was Jim’s gentle murmured encouragement that had Leonard eventually admit in a jumble of words, “I lost you both. I can’t… I _need_ you.”

Oh. Oh, hell. Chris suddenly realized that maybe he should have expected this. When he’d finally been released from the hospital Leo had been almost feverish: pinning him to the bed, breath hot in his ear as the younger man poured out doubts and fear and need and above all relief. Reaching over Jim to rub his hand over Leonard’s shoulder, he asked, “What do you need from us?”

The words in reply were almost lost in a grumble, but Chris and Jim had years of experience deciphering McCoy-speak to understand: “I need to know you’re okay.”

Between them, Jim stilled, because until the night before he’d have been lying if he claimed to be okay. Chris sensed the change, and over one shoulder he could see Leonard’s doubtful hazel eyes and needed to do _something_. Something to make them both okay. To make _all_ of them okay. 

Coming to a decision, offering a few silent words of hope that the gesture would be taken well, Chris tugged at Jim’s hip and said, “Slide down.”

Jim let himself be manhandled down the bed until his hips were near the foot of the mattress, tamping down on his confusion, trusting Chris, as Leonard was tugged on top of him. Leonard was left straddling Jim, ass in the air and holding himself up on his forearms. Nose to nose, Jim allowed himself to quirk a smile, “Hey Bones.” There was far too much emotion in Leonard’s eyes, perhaps even some that Jim had never seen before, even in their years of friendship. They still were nude from the night before and with anyone else it should have felt uncomfortable and absurd, but this was _Bones_.

Then Chris’ voice, low and intimate, came from somewhere down the bed, beyond where Jim could see: “I want you to tell him, Leo. Tell him what you need to say.” Chris pressed a kiss to a knob on Leonard’s spine. “What you wanted to say when he woke up.” Another kiss. “What you should have said when we got together.”

Leonard shuddered, but kept his mouth closed even as he looked directly into Jim’s too-blue eyes. He _couldn’t_. It was too much. It was… A surprised breath escaped him as a slick finger probed at his anus. _Chris_. The finger pressed in, then curled in a way that made him gasp. “I…” The words that wanted to come got caught in his throat.

Soft, but insistent, “Tell him, Leo.”

A second finger slipped in to join the first, curling to press against his prostate and Leonard’s vision dissolved in sparks for a moment before Jim’s face swam back into focus, eyes wide open in wonder.

Chris’ voice sounded very far away. _Tell him_

So Leonard did. 

In true Leonard fashion: “Goddamnit, Jim!” A gasp, then the words tumbled out, “You have no idea, Jim. No damn idea what it’s like around you, with your cocky smile and your good looks and your damn genius brain and while you insinuated yourself into my life until you filled in gaps I’d never known existed you had your hookups and you flirted with anything with a pulse and I didn’t think I could be any different. You became my _family_ Jim and I was just some too-old aviophobe they placed bets on washing out before graduation. I didn’t think you’d want more with someone like me. I didn’t think you _could_ want more.” The insistent fingers in his ass kept moving, twisting, pressing against his prostate in a way that made his speech hitch. A third finger pressed inside made him take a moment to catch his breath before he could continue, “I love Chris” Jim’s eyes widened, because he’d never heard them say the words to each other. Aware nothing would ever be the same if he said it, Leonard took a moment to feel the pounding of his own heart before he said, “I love you too, you asshole. I need you.”

And then Jim was rising up to kiss Leonard, lips and teeth and _fuck_ it was all there now. And _then_ Jim was sinking back to the bed with a groan, as Chris took the younger man’s length in a slick hand, lined them up, and then started Leonard sinking down on Jim’s cock.

“Show him, Jim. Let him feel you.”

And _fuck_ Jim could do that. He rolled his hips, thrusting up into tight heat and as he looked up at Bones, eyes closed with a furrow between his eyebrows, it was the same sensation as the night before: that somehow it hadn’t quite felt like this before.

“Open your eyes.” At Chris’ command, Leonard eyes snapped open and focused on _Jim_ : underneath him and _inside_ him. “Look at him, Leo. Look. He’s alive. Feel me, here,” Chris pressed his chest against Leonard’s back, reaching around to tweak a nipple. “I’m here. I’m alive. We’re both here with you.”

Leonard made a noise that was almost a sob. It was hotter than any fantasy Jim had ever harbored since they were assigned dorms 401 A & B in their second year. Since Bones had growled at him with a three day beard and shared his bourbon on a shuttle.

Jim picked up the pace, thrusting upwards so his hips slapped against Leonard’s ass and the older man’s cock bobbed between them, precum weeping down onto Jim’s belly. He’d have kept going, but a sudden downward pressure on Leonard’s hips stilled them and then an increase in the pressure _around his cock_ made them both freeze. 

It was Chris, one hand holding Leonard still while carefully worming a slippery finger alongside Jim’s cock. Leonard’s mouth dropped open, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Jim wanted to lean up to lick it off, but couldn’t seem to move.

A second finger joined the first and Jim’s mouth dropped open as well, because the _pressure_. A minute later, a third finger, thrusting and twisting… and he suddenly realized what might be happening. Jim had done a lot of things, but he’d never quite done _this_ before. Fuck. _Fuck_.

 _And then Chris was pressing in too_ and something skittered to a halt in Jim’s brain because he had no conceivable frame of reference for processing this. Leonard tipped forward, head hanging down and Jim felt a pang of loss that he couldn’t see the older man’s face anymore. 

In the sudden silence, Leonard’s harsh breaths filled the bedroom. Gasping pants turned into a groan as Chris bottomed out, cock pressed tightly against Jim’s.

With a clumsy hand, Jim reached up to press at Leonard’s jaw, encouraging the older man to tilt his head up. Unfocused hazel eyes met his own, cupid’s bow lips moving soundlessly in words Jim couldn’t guess. And then Chris started to _move_. Really move, with deep, rolling thrusts that Jim’s hips started to respond to of their own accord until they were pressing and rolling _in out in out_ in counterpoint; in an accelerating rhythm that was almost overwhelming Jim. He couldn’t imagine what it could feel like for Bones.

The pressure was indescribable. With every deep thrust someone, Leonard didn’t know who, raked across his prostate in a way that sent a _zing_ of pleasure straight through his pelvis that would have almost been painful if he was still capable of feeling anything but pleasure. It was too much, but Jesus fuck he wasn’t about to tell anyone to stop. Several more thrusts, and he lost the ability to think anything at all. He was pure sensation. A live wire. Fuck he was a nova. He was a goddamn, fucking superno—

Leonard came in a long keening moan, buffeted by their continued thrusts even as his own pleasure crested and erupted.

The arrhythmic clenching of Leonard’s orgasm, compounded by how Chris continued his deep pounding, balls slapping against the overstretched ring of muscle, was more than Jim could handle. Jim came with an involuntary shout, an almost feral exclamation of pleasure as Leonard’s trembling arms gave out and the impaled man collapsed on his chest.

Shivering in oversensitivity, Jim could only hang on as Chris _kept thrusting_. Someone was moaning, softly, continuously; it might have been him. Just when Jim thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Chris’ hips stuttered and the admiral buried himself as deeply as he could, rocking as he came.

Harsh breathing.

A heavy weight on his chest.

Jim jerked back to awareness as Chris carelly pulled out, his own softening cock slipping free from Leonard’s body shortly afterwards. Jim closed his eyes, swallowing, a lingering burn of arousal at the sensation of cum sliding out of Leonard and pooling on his thighs. He’d died. He’d died in the fucking warp core and this was either Heaven or the most unimaginable Deltan sex purgatory. Aware the weight on his chest was breathing, Jim forced his eyes open to find Leonard still sprawled on top of him, face pressed against the curve of his collarbone. A hand appeared, gently stroking what Jim could see of a disruly mess of Leonard’s dark hair. Chris. 

Following the hand up, Jim found Chris watching him with a soft smile. There was emotion in those blue eyes that made surprising warmth blossom in Jim’s belly. Something must have shown on his face, because Chris’ smile turned tender and he slid his hand over to cup the side of Jim’s face for a moment, thumb pressing gently to lips in a substitute for a kiss.

Pulling back and shifting to carefully check for blood, relieved when there wasn’t any, Chris stretched out on the bed so he could keep a hand between Leonard’s shoulder blades even as he addressed Jim softly, “I think we broke him.”

And damn if Leonard didn’t look utterly fucked out. Jim huffed a breath that was approaching a chuckle, a burgeoning sensation that was almost elation spreading in his chest as he lightly replied, “If I’d known this was what he needed…”

Chris chuckled as well, rubbing his hand back and forth and only eliciting something that might have been a sleepy murmur. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to one freckle on the smooth skin of Leonard’s shoulder, then up to press one to Jim’s lips. The smile in reply was enough to want to do it again, and damn if Jim’s full lips weren’t as soft as they looked. Impulsively, he said, “I love you too, Jim.” Because, stars help him, he did. In his own right, not just with Leonard as the link in their chain.

Jim’s eyes blew wide, pupils dilating. “I…”

“It’s okay.” Pressing a finger to Jim’s lips to forestall the need to reply, Chris gently added, “I know this has been one hell of a twelve hours. You don’t need to say anything.” A slight frown marred Jim’s forehead, so Chris quickly added, “Not yet.”

 _Yet_ held the promise that there might be an opportunity for _more_ and Jim’s frown evaporated. Yes, Chris thought, this had been the right thing to do. Relief propelled him up, even as Jim gave a grunt of disapproval. Amused to find his own legs still felt a bit weak, Chris quickly ducked into the bathroom to clean himself off and fetch a warm, damp towel. Returning to the bed, he carefully cleaned Leonard off and, sensing little resistance, Jim as well. 

It was morning, but still early. Climbing back into the bed, careful not to jostle it too much, Chris settled so that he could curl around Jim. 

Holding Jim, holding Leonard.

It felt right.


	4. Chris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the encouraging comments (◠‿◠✿)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four months. 

It had been four months since Chris and Leonard invited Jim into their bed. A quick decision, to be honest, but to their mutual surprise Jim had simply never left. Once he seemed sure the welcome was truly genuine, Jim slotted so seamlessly into their lives it was as if he’d always been there. Perhaps he had.

They didn’t talk about the countdown hanging over their heads: two months until the Enterprise was slated to re-launch. While Chris and Jim were putting in long hours at Command HQ and Leonard was similarly invested in consulting on the overabundance of neurological cases and spinal traumas following the Vengeance’s impact, they were nonetheless making a point of enjoying what they had while it lasted. The evening after their first night together Jim had returned from a visit to his apartment with an overnight bag. Three days later it was a large suitcase.

Chris’ king size bed had been put to _excellent_ use as well: sure, the sex had continued to be toe-curlingly fantastic, but if he were honest simply knowing that Jim and Leonard were there, with him, had Chris sleeping better than he had in his entire life.

It was only when the invitation _pinged_ its way to his comm that Chris still felt something was missing. He’d known in a dim sense that it would be coming, but it was only when he saw it written down in black and white that he felt the little tug of emotion: they were decommissioning the Antares, and as a now distinguished former commander Admiral Pike plus guest(s) were invited to the ceremony and reception. His first command, already a little worn around the edges at the time and in need of the gentle touch of a patient chief engineer, but _his ship_ nonetheless. In that moment, Chris realized just how much he wanted to go.

And he wanted to take _plus guest(s)_ with him.

So, of course, he didn’t say anything. This thing they had, the three of them, had remained remarkably low key. Chris sometimes wondered if Jim’s crew might have guessed, Spock in particular, but if they had they didn’t give any outward sign. At ‘fleet headquarters they were as professional as ever, and with command still in disarray no one seemed to be looking too closely at where Jim went home after a long day in meetings.

Every couple of days Chris would catch himself glancing at the invitation in his inbox, briefly allowing himself to _imagine_ before he’d scroll away to focus on business. He hadn’t realized it was affecting him until two weeks later when Leonard trailed a hand along the back of the couch to settle on his shoulder. Looking up from his padd with a small frown, Chris was surprised to find he was being assessed by hazel eyes. “Leo?”

“What’s wrong?”

Wrong? Chris’ frown deepened, and he caught sight of Jim watching them carefully from by the door. “Nothing’s wrong.” Leonard just kept _watching_ him with those eyes and Chris eventually sighed and offered, “They’re decommissioning the Antares. It was my first command.” He smiled, wanly, “I guess it’s stirred up some mixed feelings.”

Eyes softening, Leonard gave the shoulder under his hand a squeeze and asked, “When?”

“Thursday. There’s a ceremony and then a reception.”

“You going?”

“I haven’t rsvp’d.”

Jim joined the conversation then, carefully crossing the room and settling on the edge of an armchair to ask, “Why not?”

Chris shrugged as if to indicate a lack of care or mixed feelings.

He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. The younger men just waited until Chris realized there was no escaping the truth. Trying not to sound grumpy at caving under pressure, he conceded, “I guess the thought of braving a formal affair alone wasn’t so appealing.”

Jim waved his hand in a grabby motion so Chris called up the invite and passed it over. The younger man skimmed the details and then oh so casually raised an eyebrow, “Oh hey, Bones, it says plus guests.” The emphasis was heavy on the plural _s_ and Leonard narrowed his eyes.

“That so?” 

Fuck, Leonard was lengthening his drawl. Chris was _so_ fucked.

“Yup,” Jim’s _p_ popped, which was enough to confirm that Chris was fucked on _two_ fronts. “Whatcha doing on Thursday? I’m free.”

“Jim,” the imploring note in Chris’ voice would have been embarrassing in front of anyone else, “we can’t just show up together.”

“Why not?” And _there_ was the note of defiance that could get Jim in trouble with the admiralty.

“I don’t want to have to pretend; not in front of my old crew. I never lied to them before. Not about anything.” And if they didn’t… it was preposterous: the _gossip_ would be unbelievable. It would be all over the fleet before morning.

Jim and Leonard exchanged a glance that was laden with significance Chris still couldn’t quite read. It was clear enough to the two young men, as Leonard’s lip twitched in a way that made Jim give a ghost of a nod and say, “Silver fox ‘fleet hero Admiral Pike off the market? We’ll make that awful gossip site Joanna rambles about.”

Leonard snorted, “Dashing Captain Jim Kirk off the market?” He rolled his eyes, but good naturedly, “We’ll make the front page.”

“You’d…” _make it official_. Chris looked between the two men, surprised at the swell of emotion in his chest.

Jim smiled crookedly, still sometimes thrown by emotion, and quickly tapped a few things into Chris’ padd. It chimed a confirmation and he looked up and wagged his eyebrows suggestively, “Get your dress uniform to the cleaner, Bones. We’ve got a date.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chris felt lightheaded the entire ride up to spacedock. As if he couldn’t quite believe it was about to happen, despite the fact that he’d been there in the lead up: as Leonard sniped that his collar was too tight and Jim warbled away in the shower.

Then time seemed to skip ahead and he had Leonard on his left, tall and straight in his dress uniform, and Jim at his right, flashing an easy smile at people they passed but letting Chris remain obviously in charge as they walked into the large reception. A _ripple_ went through the crowd at the sight of them in the doorway, Leo, Chris, and Jim, then a rumble of renewed conversation. Squaring his shoulders, Chris spared a glance to his right of _I told you so_ , but Jim, the cheeky bastard, just gave him a wink and snagged himself a glass of champagne.

“Admiral!” 

A wave from across the room and Chris broke into a genuine smile, moving quickly to join the small knot of former crew: Bates, his long-suffering chief engineer, Gavan, then a young helmsman but now the first officer on the Lovell, and beside them… “One!”

“Chris!” His former first officer beamed before pulling him into a tight hug.

They were both laughing when he eventually pulled back, admonishing her, “You didn’t say you’d be back to Earth for this!”

“Well you didn’t say you’d be coming at all, _Christopher_.” Her dark eyes sparkled with mirth as she glanced behind him, “And you certainly didn’t say you’d be bringing guests.”

_Busted_.

Sunny smile firmly in place, Jim stepped forward and offered his hand. “Jim Kirk, ma’am.” 

“Please, call me One. And?”

Her elegant hand was swallowed in Leonard’s as he turned up the southern charm of his own and replied, “Leo McCoy. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m sure it’s all mine.” She arched a perfectly groomed brow and corrected, “Or probably Chris’. Is that right, gentlemen?”

Jim just about snorted his champagne out his nose at that, eyes watering as he managed to gasp, “First officer? I like her!”

Chris shook his head, fondly, because Jim had no _idea_ , but she was more than a match for the younger man. Hell, One could eat him alive if she was so inclined. The others laughed, because if he was honest a year on the Antares in the Laurentian System was enough to make a group of people know each other a little too well.

Sometime after the speeches finished and the reception continued, once everyone was well into the liquid refreshments, Chris was aware of Jim shifting closer to his side even as they kept up a steady banter with One. When the younger man eventually slipped his arm around Chris’ waist and loosely leaned into the older man’s side, something sparkled in One’s eyes that might have been approval.

When Leo sidled up with a fresh drink and mirrored the action on Chris’ other side, it was _definitely_ approval. Maybe a little envy. Instead of flushing with embarrassment, Chris just gave a little quirk of his eyebrow, because he _knew_ they looked good.

No one had mentioned his cane all night. Moreover, Chris had even _forgotten_ the damn thing, for the first time since the clusterfuck over Vulcan.

Hours later, a little too drunk and beaming with happiness, Chris let himself be steered through his townhouse and to the master bedroom. Flopping down onto the bed with a chuckle as the room seemed to tilt along with him, he squinted back and said, “I love you.” Then, so that Jim wouldn’t feel left out, he added, “I love you too.” Then, because the words felt so good on his tongue he crooned again, “Looove you!”

“Bones,” Jim’s voice was a stage whisper, “What have we done to him?”

“I’d forgotten he hasn’t had much liquor since he was shot. Muscle mass still isn’t what it was either.”

An indignant, yet muffled, “M’ fine,” came from the direction of the bed. That wasn’t quite right, “I’m good.” He waved his hands expansively, poking himself in the eye as he proclaimed, “Great.” And _fuck_ that had been a great night. The Antares. Best. Crew. Ever. On that note, smugly, “One’sgonaripybalsoffifylme.”

“What?” Jim frowned in confusion, trying to lean closer even as Leonard chuckled.

More practiced at deciphering Chris under the influence of drugs, Leonard clarified, “He said One’s going to rip our balls off if we leave him.” And Jim’s horrified expression, Leonard shrugged, “He’s probably right.” Attention back to the admiral sprawled on the bed, his smile turned fond as he more gently said, “Come on, let’s get you out of that uniform and under the covers.

Chris gave a filthy chuckle and shimmied his hips in a way that was probably intended to be helpful.

It wasn’t.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Whoever the _fuck_ had turned the goddamn sun on was going to get demoted. 

Chris shifted and was unable to suppress a groan as it sent a throb of pain through his head.

“Well good morning to you too.” Leonard’s drawl crawled under Chris’ eyelids and sent a fresh shock of pain rattling through his skull.

Before he could retort, there was the bite of a hypo at his neck and then the hangover receded, leaving cottony blankness in its wake. There was a rustle and then a soft sensation of someone’s fingertips playing over his ribs. Cracking his eyes opened revealed it was Jim, head propped up on one hand.

Chris gave a rumbled hum of approval, then closed his eyes for a few breaths, and a few more strokes to his chest, as the hangover hypo continued to kick in. Stretching as he gradually felt like a human again, he opened his eyes properly to find Leonard sitting on the side of the bed, looking down on them both with a fond expression on his face.

Memories of the night before washed over Chris and he felt a surge of warmth in his chest, tempered by something bittersweet.

Jim must have caught it, because his fingertips stilled. “Chris?”

Struggling to put feelings into words, he said, “Last night was great.” And it had been. Old friends, Jim and Leo beside him, showing off a little (if he were honest). Better than great. It was...

“Marry me.” 

Chris gaped. When he’d given the _leap without looking_ speech this wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind.

Jim’s gaze flitted up to Leonard and he earnestly added, “You too.”

Leonard crossed his arms over his chest and drawled, “Well isn’t that a charming proposal.”

“C’mon, Bones.” Lip curling in a smile, Jim prompted, “Think of your balls! You wanna keep One off our backs, don’t you?”

It made absolutely no sense to Chris, but Leonard barked out a laugh, then wryly replied, “Well ain’t that romantic. How can I resist?”

Looking between the two men, Chris could only weakly ask, “Leo?”

The wry humor vanished, and in a softly serious tone Leonard said, “Yeah, I’ll marry you, Jim.”

Jim beamed, laugh lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes as he turned his attention to the man still in bed, “What’dya say, Chris? Will you marry me? Wanna ask Bones to make an honest man out of you as well?”

In that moment it all slotted into place: permanence. That was what he needed. The suddenness of the realization was enough to take his breath away. Literally. He hadn’t quite realized he’d stopped breathing until Jim’s smile started to slip and the younger man more soberly asked, “Chris?”

A hand settled on his shoulder, _Leo_ , his brain supplied, and he took a gasping breath. The hand gave a squeeze of encouragement and Chris felt like something rebooted in his brain, connection to his mouth coming back online enough for him to blurt out, “Yes.” There was something almost fragile dancing in Jim’s blue eyes, so he more firmly asserted, “Yes, Jim. I’ll marry you.” Sealing it with a quick kiss to the younger man’s lips, he turned to look up at Leonard and ask, “Leo, will you marry me?”

The warmth on Leonard’s face threatened to take Chris’ breath away all over again. “Yes. Yes, Chris, I will.” Rolling his eyes, he couldn’t help but add, “Thanks for asking so kindly.” It would’ve been flippant, but Chris understood _exactly_ what was being said.

He sat up and Leonard immediately understood what was wanted, leaning forward for a tender kiss that quickly became heated. It only escalated further when Jim’s legendary roving hands joined the mix, sliding over Chris’ bare chest and then along the waistband of his boxers.

Half an hour later Chris sagged bonelessly into the mattress, floating on a rush of endorphins and something that must have been bliss. Dimly, he heard Leo’s voice somewhere above: “You clean him off. I’ll go get us coffee.”

_Fuck, yeah. Married._


End file.
